Screaming my name
by ShanMah
Summary: Bellatrix's time in Azkaban, until her break out: how did an aristocrat like Bella manage to survive in such a place?


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to it; I'm but a humble fanfiction writer borrowing JKR's great stuff for a little non-profit story that you will hopefully enjoy.

**Rating: **Damned if I know. T?

**Pairing:** No real pairing here, kinda Voldemort/Bellatrix, but in a Dark-Lord-Death-Eater way, not Voldemort-found-love-oh-yeah-baby way.

**Context:** I love Bellatrix. Yeah, she's evil. Yeah, she's crazy. She's a psychopath. That's the point. Seriously, if you're gonna be a villain, you might as well be balls to the wall like Bella and not half-assed about it like Lucius. I wondered what her time in Azkaban was like - she spent no less than fourteen years in there, and while it did definitely leave traces (both physically and psychologically), she did NOT completely lose her mind. Remember, it was explained in the third book that most people get so depressed in Azkaban that they just stop eating and they die in just a few years, sometimes less - Bellatrix didn't let herself die under the Dementors' spell. I tried to imagine how it could be possible, what made her, a precious little aristocrat, tough enough to live through that, and how it was when she was finally reunited with Voldemort after all she did for him, and here's the result: a oneshot for you to read! Woooo!

**Music time: **I _might _been influenced by the fact that I started writing this just after I went to Alice Cooper and Iron Maiden's show some months ago, HOWEVER, I wrote this listening to Alice Cooper's famous _Poison_, so feel free to do the same as you read this :D

**Screaming my name**

Bellatrix sat on the dirty floor, her back leaned against the cold wall. She was at a point where even the dark grey stone felt more comfortable to her than the so-called bed she had been enduring for so many years. To her left and her right stood walls identical to the one her back was against. In front of her, obviously, thick metal bars; behind them, a narrow corridor where Dementors glided on a regular basis, checking on the prisoners, making sure they were all locked up in their cells. After the narrow path, there were metal bars just like the ones who held Bellatrix captive, and behind them, Rodolphus was also sitting on the floor, in the exact same position than his wife - not that he had that many other choices anyway. Your options were when you were a high security prisoner in Azkaban (read "former Death Eater").

"You hanging in there, Rody?" she asked.

Rodolphus snorted.

"Peachy, Bella, just _peachy_."  
"It's soon," Bellatrix said.

Her voice was low, almost a whisper coming from her throat - he knew she wasn't even trying to whisper. Dementors didn't give a shit what prisoners could say - hell, he wasn't even sure they could actually hear. But when you'd been locked up in Azkaban for so many years, you seldom had the desire to talk, so when you suddenly decided to open your mouth, it was bound to show.

"I know."

He stared at her as her gaze fell upon her left arm in amazement; every week, every day, the Dark Mark had become more and more visible on their flesh: it was pitch black now, like it used to be in the Dark Lord's glorious days. She giggled - an expression of joy that was as innappropriate between those walls as a Mudblood would be in Slytherin. She glanced up at him, digging her dark eyes into his.

"You didn't believe me, did you?" she asked reproachfully.

He grunted. _This again.  
_  
"Do you really think I would've gone with it - torturing those stupid Aurors in the name of the Dark Lord and refused to bribe my way out of here like Lucius and the others did - if I didn't trust that you were right?"  
"Maybe," she smirked, "Or maybe you simply couldn't stand the thought of me being alone here."

Rodolphus rolled his eyes, but he did not reply - lying to Bellatrix was no good. She might have been in a cell for now, but once they got out, she was liable to make him pay dearly. She got on her feet, pacing around in the tiny space she had been given. She did that a lot - but then again, you pretty much only had three options in those bloody cells: you could sit down, you could pace, or you could lay down. His eyes followed her; those years had changed her so much. The hair that was once silky, straight and jet black was now a greasy mess of unorganized curls and dust. Her skin, once perfect alabaster, was now dirty and she showed some scars here and there. Her lips, once full and soft, were now thin and dry. It was no coincidence that she was in the cell right in front of him: the Ministry did this on purpose to couples - not that there were many Death Eaters couples in Azkaban. It was considered part of their punishment to see their loved one lose his poise, his pride, and his mind. Seeing their partner grow weaker every day was meant to be another kind of torture for high security criminals like them. However, he was positive that Bellatrix didn't give a fuck about him, and every time Bella got on her feet and started pacing around in her cell, he also saw what had _not _changed.

Her eyes. Though they now told the story of a woman subjected to the Dementors for almost fifteen years, in them burned the very same flame that he had noticed the first time he saw her. This I-know-what-I-want-get-the-hell-out-of-my-way flame. It was still there, it still burned within her after all this time, after all they'd endured.

And her pride. That pride every single person bearing the name of Black seemed to have inherited.

She still had every bit of it. He saw it the most when she walked circles into her cell like this: her back was perfectly straight, her chin was high. And even after so many years enduring Azkaban, after everything that had changed in her, he could still see the remnants of her beauty, the ghost of the gorgeous young woman he had married when he was nineteen. Rodolphus was very well placed to know that if something could make you feel and look like an utter shit, like a complete waste of space, it was the influence of a Dementor - he himself knew that he had lost most of that pride - that was why _she_ was pacing and _he_ was sitting down. He didn't want her to see. Oh, the irony. He had followed her mostly because he didn't want her to be alone in Azkaban. Little did he know, Bellatrix took it better than him. He didn't know why - he supposed that she was tougher somehow.

But he was wrong.

The reason why Bellatrix was able to somewhat keep her sanity was her conviction that Lord Voldemort was still alive - not only still alive, but that he would come back for her, to set her free from that filthy cell. _Keep this in your vault for me, Bella... keep it safe, always, and your Master shall never die... _She had rushed to Gringotts the night he had fell, and _the golden cup was still there and intact_. Voldemort's order and that moment when she had stormed into her vault on that bloody night, that very moment when she had touched the cold metal with the tip of her trembling fingers to make sure it was indeed real, ran over and over again in her mind. It wasn't a happy thought - it was not something the Dementors could take away from her like they could with her child's plays with Andromeda and Narcissa, it was not something that they could feed on like the moment the Dark Lord had given her his mark. It was a _certitude _- and that, the Dementors had no grip on, so it stayed there, within her, burning strong, and it kept her going every day. Bellatrix gasped when she felt a sudden pain inside of her left arm: she glanced down at her husband in his cell.

"Did you feel that?" she hastily asked.  
"I'd have to be bloody numb not to," he mumbled.

He had closed his eyes, but his lips were smirking.

"He's back," she said.

A Dementor passed between them, and the happy thought vanished, sucked into the dark being. As soon as he floated out of sight, however, it came back; she had never been happier in her entire life.

"He's back!" she cackled.

She opened her arms and shouted on the top of her lungs:

"OUR MASTER IS BACK! Calling upon our friends! How many will show to him? How many will be disloyal? _No matter_. He knows _we_'ve been loyal. He'll remember _us_."

She sat on the floor again, her joy sucked up by the two Dementors who had showed up, attracked by the spike of positive emotions they had felt coming from her. Once she seemed to have shut down, they resumed their normal travel along the path.

"Do you think Lucius will have the courage to show up?" she asked in a murmur, after the trouble from the Dementors had left her.  
"Do you?"  
"I don't think he's going to. He chickened out when we asked him to help us find him. I think he'll chicken out again."  
"I think the same. Lucius will chicken out. Except, 'chickening out' in that context will be different from what you think."

She frowned.

"What do you mean?"  
"He won't dare turn his back on the Dark Lord - he'll come back to him with plenty of excuses to have been such a coward."

Bella grinned.

"It's a shame I can't be there. I'd love to see him try to smooth-talk his way out of _that_ corner."

For a couple of months they waited. Sitting down. Exchanging a few words. Pacing. Eating the grey goo they fed prisoners. Laying down. Trying to sleep for more than two hours straight. Waking up because of the cold. Waiting. And _waiting_.

"Bella."

Her eyes left the ceiling and she stared at him as he got up, not without some difficulties. His legs were numb from keeping the same position for many hours - and barely walking for all those years.

"Bella, he's been back for a while now."

Her neutral gaze turned into a glare.

"Don't you _dare_," she growled menacingly.  
"Well I might dare - one of us has to! It's probably been a couple of months, and we're still _here!_"  
"It takes time, you can't just expect the Dark Lord to bust us out of here in a pinch - even he cannot do such thing."  
"Bella, it wouldn't take that long. Not to him."

She shook her head.

"It's those Dementors making you think like that, they're sucking up the hope but I'm telling you, I know, I swear-"  
"We failed, didn't we?" he cut her. "We got captured. When has the Dark Lord come back for _failures?_"

He sat back on the floor, bringing his knees to his chest.

"We might as well face it."

She looked at him in disdain.

"Whatever flies your broom. Face it if you want - I still refuse to think he has given up on us. Loyalty has always been rewarded."

As though her words had had a magical impact, a loud _boom_ was heard beneath them as she finished her sentence. It sounded like an explosion, powerful enough that they felt the vibrations under them.

"What was that?" Rodolphus asked, frowning.

Quickly, they heard a commotion in the corridor: prisoners were shouting, screaming.

"Take me!"  
"Me! Me! Set me free!"

Most of them seemed to not have their wish granted, however, as insults started rising a well: Bellatrix got to the door of her cell, stretching her neck in an attempt so see what was going on.

And she saw _them._

Two men in black robes, coming straight for them.

Fellow Death Eaters. Once the one closest to her faced her cell, she recognized her brother-in-law.

"Always a pleasure," she teased him.  
"Back off, Bella," he ordered, pointing his wand at the heavy lock.

Bellatrix obeyed in silence, taking a few steps backwards, until her back met the cold stones: with one swift motion of his wand, Lucius blasted the lock open. Behind him, another Death Eater was doing the same with Rodolphus' cell.

"Quick," Lucius ordered, "The Dementors will be providing a nice distraction, but Yaxley at the Ministry only gave us a five minutes window."  
"Five minutes window for what?" Rodolphus asked, stepping out of his cell.

Lucius smirked to Bellatrix, who was still in her cell.

"Apparating in and out of Azkaban, of course," he replied, offering the witch his hand. "Come, Bella."

Without a word, she seized his hand, and the four Death Eaters vanished. They appeared in a place that was very familiar to Bellatrix: the living room of the Malfoy manor. She barely noticed it, as she didn't see the family pictures, nor did she see the fireplace, or the expensive furniture: all that she could see, all that mattered to her, was the wizard standing in the middle of the room. She immediately fell to her knees in front of him.

"My Lord," she humbly said, her eyes almost tearing up, "We can never thank you enou-"

His long, white finger on her hasty lips stopped her.

"Stand up, Bella," his hissing voice ordered to her, and she immediately obeyed. "You need not kneel before me for that."

He touched her cheek, and dug his red eyes into hers, which were filled with adoration and gratitude.

"You two alone, among everyone I had graced with my Mark and my trust, have proven worthy."

He glared at Lucius over Bellatrix's shoulder.

"You alone trusted that I would be back. For that, you will be rewarded beyond any expectation. Fourteen years is a long time, and yet..."

His thin lips almost formed a smile -_ almost_.

"Yet I sense that neither your magic nor your spirit has broken - rather like me when I vanished."

He took a step back, looking at the Death Eaters couple.

"Take a couple of days to rest and regain your strength - I will be back with orders."

Without a single noise, he vanished, and everything else in the room became visible again to Bellatrix.

"Cissy," a smile illuminated her face when she noticed her presence.  
"I've been so worried for you," her younger sister said with a trembling voice, hugging her despite her dirty state. "It's so good to finally see you..."

And Bellatrix smiled, hugging her sister back. _My baby sister._ Although she was closer in age with Andromeda, she had always felt much closer to Narcissa.

"A couple of others were freed tonight," Lucius said, taking off his black cloak, "Others that our Lord wanted to have back on his side immediately. The Dementors will obey to him from now on, so people might be able to break free here and there, but high security prisoners like you two had literally no chances to make it on your own even with the Dementors out of the Ministry's control, so we had to get you. Yaxley found a way to break the protection charm that the Ministry keeps on the prison all the time. We would've freed you before, the Dark Lord wanted you back from the very night he rose again, but it took Yaxley a lot of time."

He sat on his favourite armchair, next to the fireplace.

"You two are to stay here unless he says so. The manor's protected with many spells, and the Ministry won't dare come in here unannounced."  
"Bella," her little sister's soft voice spoke.

She handed her a box.

"What is it?" Bellatrix asked.  
"Yours," Narcissa replied, smiling.

Bellatrix frowned and opened the wooden box: she gasped and her eyes widened when she saw what was sitting on the blue satin.

"My wand..."

She recognized it like a mother would recognize her own child: the tone of the wood, the slight bent in the middle, the length. She touched the walnut with the tip of her fingers, and she could almost hear the dragon whose heartstring had been sealed inside roar. Unyielding. That was how Ollivanders had described that wand to her when she was eleven. The wand was _unyielding... _rather like her.

"How is that possible?" Bellatrix asked, "I thought they broke your wand when you were given a life sentence in Azkaban."  
"They do," Narcissa quietly replied. "But I managed to spare yours, I requested it. I lied and said it was a Black family heritage, and that they had no right to destroy it. I've kept it here ever since."  
"You trusted that I would escape?"

Narcissa looked away, seeming ashamed.

"She thought you'd die," Lucius coldly stated, "And she wanted you to be buried with your wand."  
"Most prisoners don't even last a full year in Azkaban!" his wife protested, tears coming up her eyes. "She's my sister and I wanted to make sure that if something happened, then, I could, we could-"  
"It's all right, Cissy," Bella reassured her. "What matters the most is that you kept it, and that I'm here now. I'm alive, I'm free, and I need a bath."

Narcissa laughed softly.

"Use my bathroom. Rodolphus, you can use Lucius', I'll have the elf cook something for you two, and give you clothes as well."  
"Hey, Rody," Lucius' voice raised when the Death Eaters couple was about to leave the living room.

Rodolphus turned around just in time to see Lucius taking something from his pocket and throwing it to him: the pleasant heat that took over his body when he could the short wooden stick couldn't be mistaken. He looked at him in amazement, and Malfoy shrugged.

"I, too, thought you were both going to die and I wouldn't let my childhood friend to be buried without his wand like a Muggle."  
"What did you say to them?"

Lucius smirked.

"Nothing. Gold speaks louder than words."

**The endz: **There you have it folks :) there will be no sequel (at least I don't think so), I just really love Bella as a character and I wanted to write about her time in Azkaban + her escape :)


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